What mortal hand or eye
by Honore - Form. MerlintoVivian
Summary: Strange things happen when something like the Boundary exists... No alternative can and must ever be discounted!


Author's Note: This is a Shurpuff work, done by **Shurpuff, **nephew of **Merlin, **owner of this account, which is used with his permission.

I own nothing in relation to the franchise under which this section of is located. If I did, I'd be a goddamn millionaire.

(())(())(())

_"To Ragna,_

_Time and the perspectives that come with it have lightened my mind regarding certain matters we had discussed before. I'm sorry if I seemed sorta cross that time. Perhaps "cross" would be understating it-I let my more bestial side show. I didn't mean to leave our last conversation like that. I know it must have hurt you, and I'm sorry._

_You must know how hard these types of soul-baring things are for me; a warrior ain't built for that type of sentimentality. We're just prone to reminiscing over tired wounds like the old farts we are, tasting the moments and the might-have-beens, bitter, sweet, melancholic, lost. That inquiry of yours, in particular, stirred in me a particularly intense memory that I unfairly deflected unto you. It should have occurred to me then that it was wrong, so wrong, a very wrong thing to do. She would not have been pleased with me. _

_I am proud of you, son. I have failed in many things in my life, and I hope I may amend that through you._

_(Gosh well this took me over a week to get back to. Wha'd I say about being uncomfortable about these types of things eh? I tell ya, Ragna my boy, your old man's a right softie.)_

_Well, with the queerer part of the letter hopefully over, what say we move on to the part you really deserve to know? Well there's a mighty long, unpleasant history behind it all, Ragna, and I won't bore your eyes bleeding with talk of the Dark War or the cursed Beast or the hundred years and all that. Still, even without mentioning any of it, it's still a heckuva long story._

_I'm sitting here trying to figure out where to start. Hell take it all, I ain't built to write._

_Well, why don't we go over something kinda simpler. I mighta mentioned it before, but I'll say it again: you're not the oldest of the kindle..."_

"Breach in Area 6, Breach in Area 6-"

The blaring alarms reverberated throughout the underground facility, making the vapid walls seem like they were made of actual sonic waves instead of metal. Numerous uniformed personnel ran about its many corridors. Some were armed judiciously to the teeth. Each of them wore signifying badges declaring their allegiance to Sector Seven.

Several protocols were in operation: junior officers busily saved zettabytes of data into disposable storage as large as a bear. Those who were done with the downloads let loose a disintegrating virus into the system: a special technology that burned through both the virtual and corporeal. Some would have argued that a mid-level ars would've been a better, more meticulous method, but their current boss would have none of it.

The armed troops patrolled rigidly in trios, weapons primed to search and kill. Their commander was a veteran of the Seithr hunts; and was now receiving the call from his irate superior.

"Report." a voice demanded over his smooth, glass-like otophone.

"We're still keeping an eye out, Professor."

"You haven't found him?"

"We don't even know it's a 'him'. He was too quick for the cameras, and they only got recorded a blur."

"Keep an eye out. Concentrate on the sensitive Areas. It's what you're being paid for, in any case."

"Yes Professor."

In one of the lower-level laboratories, a short, svelte woman with a shock of bubblegum pink hair leaned back against her seat, huffing. A lab coat dominated, but didn't completely smother, her clothes. On second glance, the astute would observe two conspicuous tufts on top of her head, which, upon yet another glance, they would realize were a pair of twitching ears. A lollipop, drained of all but its infini-lick glucosine core, rolled around inside her mouth. This was Kokonoe, head of this facility.

"Damn it all. What are we even paying them for...?" she said.

"It looks like trouble. Shall I mobilize?" intoned a deep, almost gravelly voice from the shadowy place behind her. She turned her swivel chair to face the voice's owner. She shook her head.

"I've got a better nose for trouble. In any case, I haven't nearly completed the first half of your adjustments. You'd be a sitting duck. A giant sitting duck in thick, magna-charged armor, and just as useless."

"I can still throw a punch or two," the titan protested. His sitting form had many tubes and wires connected to it, each snaking out from the darkness in the corners and on the ceilings.

"And you were never to begin combat operations while inside the lab." She gave his body a look-over, as if reassessing his immenseness. "... I stand by my first assertion. You are not to leave my room for any reason."

A bleat drew Kokonoe's attention back to her comm console. "Reporting two more down. They're in serious condition. Some kind of laceration-"

"Did any of them get anything?" she cut in crisply.

"...No. Unfortunately, no Professor."

"Professor," the giant behind her said suddenly.

"Not now, Tager."

"Professor!"

"What?" She snapped, whirling around. She was never one to snap, but her subject's urgent tone alerted her. Tager didn't get to tell her; not a millisecond later the lights began to flicker. Most of her screens were invaded by a brief succession of blips, black and white static, and then utter blackness.

"That bastard."

"... He's cut off the power," Tager offered lamely.

The lights flickered, then grew dim. Kokonoe growled, as lions had once done, in an age past. The lollipop stick snapped between her teeth. She stormed out of the room. "Should whoever it is manage to get here, you know what to do," she said over her shoulder.

"Understood." Tager watched her go, seeming like a bundle of irritated nerves. The average N.O.L. base wouldn't even choke up when something like this was attempted; Ars Magus ensured constant illumination every minute of the year, with most energy capture pods also supplying enough power for three days' worth of emergency. But he, like everyone else in Sector Seven, knew well their superior's opinion of magic. Mention it within earshot of her, and she'd take the air from your words and stuff it down your blasphemous mouth.

Back at the upper rooms, a number of low-level technicians gulped audibly and broke into sweat when the outage interrupted the backup process.

Kokonoe strode into the nearest generator rooms, which had a number of machines already operating due to the sudden outage. Each were taking their sweet time, however, groaning to life with the eagerness of a sloth. Steam hissed and fanned through the room, nearly obscuring her senses-she suspected it was her heritage that stopped her from being overwhelmed. Her mind was clear enough to hold all the scattered pieces close right as she surveyed the room. In the next second, she had half the picture. She glanced askance at the fans that were pumping the steam through vents connected to the upper surface. By that time, she'd already figured it out, but hid her enraged reaction behind a placid expression.

A blunder, not to have seen it. Nothing and no one escaped the notice of her guards, who patrolled a facility she had had a hand in designing. Architecture, systems, funding: she'd been involved in it all, and she had damned well made sure no one could merely kidnap a guard, steal his identity, and waltz in. For a determined invader, one had to have brought power akin to an entire N.O.L. legion, or send a resourceful sneak. Even earthquakes and freak reactor explosions had been accounted for.

She snarled, retreating back to the corridor. She practically yelled a memorandum to one of her subordinates: Mark the damn vents for review! She couldn't believe it had been overlooked. She couldn't fathom that it had taken someone invading for her to realize it had been overlooked. Vents! Rats in my home! Send in the goddamned exterminators!

It was while she was on one of the wide connecting corridors leading back to Tager's room that she stopped. She glanced up and down the corridor. There was ample illumination, but huge swathes of darkness covered about each area like a black sea. Her bespectacled eyes were keen and unaffected, though. Her ears began twitching. From afar came assorted scraping sounds, ear-shattering in the tense silence of that moment. She felt all her hair standing on end.

All her senses, innately superior, technologically enhanced, recognized that something was amiss. It didn't take long to piece two and two together.

There were exactly two grates up on the vents. She swept her reliable sidearm upward and began shooting at one. The other behind her was then blown clean off its screws. In the next moment, a near invisible blur melted into the darkness. There was the sound of feet padding onto the floor with a thump.

She got to hand it to the invader-it was fast. She had no sooner dropped the gun-safety be damned-when she felt its fingers brush her nape. Luckily, she was no frail scientist easily taken out at close range.

The skirmish that followed was short and brutal. It was fought in the flickering shadows, between two who were undaunted by them. It was almost a fight to the death: she had been surprised, and she hadn't used her muscles to such exertions for a long time. But she could sense the other was not fighting to kill, surprisingly. She could also sense the others' inexperience. Impulsive, impassioned, juvenile. There was no time to think about it. She got in under the walls, destroyed the foundation, fumbled for a grip, and then a body slammed down, followed by numerous grunts, whereupon the backup generators finally kicked in, and then there was light.

She had him pinned to the ground face down. One hand clamped down hard on his neck. She could catch a glimpse of his angled face, which yet had a youthful chubbiness. He wore a red long-sleeved hooded jacket, whose sleeves had a slight similarity to hers. One of the sleeves was long and covered his hand in a facsimile of a catspaw-which did not symmetrically reflect on the other, a "normal" sleeve terminating at the wrist. On that arm, he had on a black glove which had a red-colored gem on the back of the hand. He had on several thick belts. Strapped to his waist was a largish sword with a slab-like edge. Coiled around it were two grey-colored rope-like appendages.

The invader breathed and grunt, wiggling and bucking under her like a recalcitrant stallion. He also seemed surprisingly strong, as her grip on him began to waver.

In one motion, he threw her off, and spun to face upward. She rebounded just as quickly, slamming her heel firmly on his neck. He made a choking sound.

She now saw his head in full profile. He had a full mane of silver hair flowing over the back of his head. Two small tufts poked up from his crown, pert and upright. His heterochromatic eyes glared a furiously and his mouth was bared in a feral grin.

Kokonoe sighed, long-suffering. "Hello again... little brother."

"_...Now, she can be a bit brusque..."_

"WHAT. DID. YOU. DO TO MY BASE? How the hell did you manage to infiltrate and subsequently cripple a state-of-the-art, impregnable Sector Seven facility! No, let me rephrase that-how dare you damage my base, cretin! Don't you know how much each part costs nowadays? We've had to order it from smug-looking smugglers who wouldn't know a flux recalibrator from a monkey wrench!"

Between her assaults on his throat, the man managed to sneak out a few words. "...The lights are still on." This was, as stated interspersed with pained "grks" and muffled "whoops"-which the dispassionate listener might construe as a plea for mercy, but which the more discerning would realize was the wholly corrupted word "stop".

Kokonoe was neither a dispassionate listener, nor did she deign to be discerning in that moment. "What was your purpose here huh you damned reprobate? Ordered to assassinate Sector Seven's boss?"

"_...and last but not least, quite a bit passionate. Sure reminds me of you sometimes, or was it the other way around?..."_

"Nice try!" she all but cackled. She loomed on top of him triumphantly. "But someone such as myself won't get taken out so easily, assassin! Fear me, fear me indeed!"

"Saya..." the man choked out. His grip on her foot tightened painfully.

"Hmm?"

He managed to say it clearly despite his bruised, constricted throat. "Help... me... find... Saya..."

"_...but she's got a good heart. All those qualities aside, I'm sure she'll look after you when the crapper hits the fan. Cause blood's a bond you can never replace. Not even in the distance of a hundred years. I'm guessing most of her memories of you were her kicking you off the bed, as I recall (thankfully your mother had to put up a safety bed around it) since you were just so clingy back then! You'd fight in bed over the silliest of things, and got to the point of upsetting the others. You'd all make such a ruckus that it kept your mother and me awake, leaving us virtually sleepless._

_Remembering that just put a smile on my face. I also remember she got very upset when you were taken away; but it was about the same time when we lost her mother, so I'm guessing all her feelings went that way first-and I never got to ask her what she felt about you until you all resurfaced much, much later._

_A century can't erase all that. I won't believe bonds like that would just disappear. _

_Just don't ever mention the word 'magic' in front of her. She gets kinda cross... If you ever need help in the future, I'm sure Kokonoe'll be glad to help ya. Hardly know what that kid's thinking nowadays. Kid's got a lotta anger stored up, a lotta enemies, a lotta grudges. But she'll sort ya out when the time comes..."_

The wrinkled caravan master he passed by had warned him of Ibukido, and the troubles brewing there which the caravan was fleeing from. Despite that, the young man who was known as Ragna made his way there with his sister's list in hand, a number of people scribbled in a hurried script.

In exchange for her help, Kokonoe wanted a few people in her list taken care of. Ragna had no illusions on that score: she wanted him to kill, and by all who were damned he would. He was no stranger to it. Not anymore. The hand he'd been "gifted", the blade his father had given, and the device he'd made and which his sister'd tweaked were all bent to that dire purpose.

The only question that remained now, just as he slipped into one of Ibukido's unguarded sewer exits, was of the means by which he could accomplish it. Killing bandits in their hideouts were one thing; assassinating N.O.L. officers was a whole other ballgame. This particular train of thought ran back and forth over the tracks of his mind as Ragna disappeared into the flowing muck and detritus, his eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. His nose stung from the omnipresent stench.

Finding the first (he picked randomly from the list) was not hard. The man together with several of his flunkies openly walked into the bar where Ragna'd taken refuge, which displaced and pissed off the regulars there at the same time. The N.O.L. off duty guardsmen ignored the abject stares of hostility and went about their jocularity. He watched them steadily get drunk.

An hour later, the man screamed behind his gag as Ragna beat him to death. It was messy, no question about it. The abandoned house wasn't that secluded, blood was flying everywhere, and a minute of screams managed to escape when the slick gag slipped, forcing Ragna to bludgeon his head with his blade repeatedly. By the time the ordeal was over, his red coat was covered in a second layer of blood and he stank of an abattoir. That scent combined with the man's sweat and palpable fear in his dying moments overpowered him in a way the sewer never had; he made quick his escape out of Ibukido and into the nearest clean-looking stream.

The attempted torture failed spectacularly, that was clear enough. He probably wasn't cut out to wring truths from people yet. He continued the prowl for the rest of his targets a week later. Ibukido was in a state of high tension-his kill's murder was attributed to subversive elements which lead to a state of emergency in the city. There were Librarium checkpoints everywhere, patrols, watchers on every roof, and a shit ton of detection Ars Magus cast on the street. Everyone had to carry sigils identifying them-if a person was caught without one, the nearest patrol was alerted, and if there was a mismatch between sigil and person, a blast of magic obliterated them.

No biggie, he thought. Just as before, the underground was free for him to use as they were only guarding the exits. The patrols couldn't stop the crowds he could hide in, as for some reason the people wouldn't stand for being shut inside their homes. And as for the magic-well, he had a way around that. His father had called it a "mighty peculiar gift", though Ragna wasn't sure how important it would be until the two of them had nearly gotten caught inside a trap devised by a Librarium grunt turned bandit magus.

He had a third eye of sorts, something only he could draw up, whereupon everyone and everything in the world around him was bleached out into this monochrome sort of color, depressing, unfeeling, creepy as hell. The only brightness to be had in here, and when he described it to his father it was a sort of bright spot like what those moths liked to flock to-it wasn't just his eyes which saw it immediately, he smelled, heard, tasted it-in his eyes it was a bright colored spot, and it didn't take long for him to put two and two together and discover that anything bright was something magical.

Most of the world was filled with it: his father called it the substance known as seithr. His father carried around a hidden object filled with magic, and that wasn't even mentioning the sword he almost never used. It was through this that Ragna memorized individuals, for each carried a unique presence in the world only his third eye could see. He routinely inspected anybody his father introduced him to, noting if there was anything suspicious about them. His father disapproved of this practice, of course, but then he couldn't tell he when was using the third eye-or couldn't he? There was only one thing he didn't like to see in the third eye, and that was something he routinely ignored every time he took a look around him.

He now abused that gift freely as he hunted. Each of the Ars they put up covered a square mile in radius, and were about a couple meters in height. The areas between them consisted of a lot of blank spots which, quite conveniently, were located in alleyways and crowded side streets. Ragna slipped into them easily as he stalked his next targets, who were now accompanied by an armed detail anytime they were out on the streets.

That did not stop a few from wanting to entertain themselves in the pubs, which were summarily cleaned out of the regulars to their increasing displeasure. No one not wearing the Librarium blue and carrying an identifying sigil was allowed in, not even if they were the owner of the establishment. Each area became impregnable and isolated for the duration of their stay. So much the better.

Ragna now made use of his "toy", as Kokonoe called it. His next target, who still needed to use the loo as any other person, was the first he used it on. He had three small, thin blades, each long enough to pierce skin on through muscle and to the bone, extending and retracting by mechanical action from slits at the end of the catspaw-shaped sleeve of his left arm. Like needles they barely left a trace on the skin and would only be felt by the victim as a quick pinprick sensation.

He'd put together the machine by himself from a combination of junk he picked up while traveling with his father. Asked where he'd come up with the design, he could only honestly say that he'd dreamed it up. His sister had recommended adding a little modification to it, which sounded reasonable. She gave him a fast-acting poison which stopped up blood flow in the area it was introduced to. One drop in the right anatomical area and it was goodbye birdie, there were ten drops to a vial, and she'd given him three.

He killed his target from the inside not two minutes since the latter returned from the loo. A search of the pub, as well as a five-mile area around it, was furiously called by all other officers in range, but by then Ragna was well outside the city cleaning himself off the sewer's gunk. Clean-yes, that was a clean kill alright.

Ibukido was in a state of uproar when he returned. Multiple mobs defended their right to stay at certain districts, and would not back down from Librarium threats of bodily harm or magic, even threatening a reprisal of their own. All the shops they could get to were forcibly closed, pending a full investigation. No Librarium soldier was allowed to be alone at all times. The most senior officials barricaded themselves inside the Ibukido leader's estate.

He observed his next target over the course of days. She seemed a disciplinarian, rigidly adhering to her scheduled patrol day in and day out. She only ever had one shift at night, and that was with a full squadron of armored, hulking guardsmen. He could count on her to show up to a particular place at a particular time of day punctually, and without any change in pattern.

It was at that time that skirmishes between the inhabitants and the Librarium occurred. Ibukido had become a powder keg. The more enterprising and cunning of the people would launch attacks from within an angry mob: wounding a soldier here and there, causing damage to equipment-one time they even managed to disrupt one of the arrays. It was fixed quickly enough, but it showed how the Librarium lines were overstretched. Ironically, the Ibukidons took heart, and launched even more attacks.

Ragna splashed himself with wet mud, which effectively dyed his bright red coat into a miserably splotchy state. He tied a band around his head to hide his conspicuous ears. He slipped into a promising-looking group, an assortment of veteran-looking grayhairs and scarred young roughs.

"Out with the soldiers! In with Lord Tenjo!"

He chanted together with them. He also goaded them to the nearest patrol point, though he was only a voice in the crowd that said so. His third eye saw his target approach around a corner. The cries of the mob alerted her guards. They formed a tight circle.

The mob, spurred on by some emotion he couldn't fathom, launched themselves into the circle. It was a wave beating against the rocks. A gale crashing into the mountainside. Ineffective in the end, but the wave carried with it a small, indiscernible crab, the gale, an easily-missed leaf. His poison-tipped claws was in and out before the woman could blink, and he fled with the dispersing mob before she had time to collapse.

The city seemed in open revolt. The harsh restrictions were barely enough to keep the rabid civilians in check. The Librarium didn't even have enough time to investigate the latest murder: as of the next day, all personnel withdrew to a spot near the gates, holding it from the pressing mob. Snipers were poised to shoot whoever passed the invisible line. Triple layers of Ars Magus were cast. Though outnumbered, they had equipment, expertise and trained tenacity. They also held the only way-the only known way-out and in. They seemed determined to starve Ibukido to death while waiting for reinforcements.

Ragna didn't allow this development to faze him. Surprisingly, the base they established right outside the walls was small and ill-defended. Maybe they weren't expecting the city to scale their own walls and assault it. They never even expected his infiltration of their camp to retrieve visual confirmation of his two remaining targets: both of whom were lieutenants, both listed as highly skilled and commended.

One was not within the vicinity, having returned to a nearby Librarium outpost for some reason, but the other was in charge of patrolling the walls to ensure nobody from inside Ibukido could escape. It was an isolated patrol: but he discovered that there was no cover from which he could safely strike and hide. The patrol looped twice, then returned, not to the sparsely defended camp, but to the gateway garrison.

After two days of sitting on the problem, Ragna decided there was no time to wait. Reinforcements might be coming any second, and then he'd have to wade through a whole sea of bodies just to get to his targets. He grasped hold of his blade, and went on the hunt.

The ambush went well, but it had been a long time since he'd swung a blade in frenzied combat. The soldiers were skilled, and after the third one had fallen, they'd begun to surround him, pressing forward in a constraining maneuver while his target hung back, bellowing orders into some sort of microphone. Ragna literally snarled; there would be no escaping their mesh if reinforcements came. He somersaulted backward, planted his feet on the chest of one soldier, then leaped high and over the circle, bringing his sword down hard to split his target's skull in two, all while howled animalistically. With the victim's blood still running down the edge, he swung again and again and again, until he finally planted his three smaller blades savagely into the last one's neck.

Breathing heavily, he stood over the carnage. A thick mist of blood seemed to envelop him. There were yells in the distance. He swung his blade wide, spraying the blood from his wave in many arcs. There was a sewer exit nearby. He sprinted into it, just as the first projectile Ars Magus impacted on his position.

He could hear their footsteps echoing behind him. They were making a loud clamor in the constricted tunnel. He was familiar with the whole complex now; it didn't take long to lose them in the confusing labyrinth, whereupon he exited back outside and ran far away from the city as fast as he could.

Ragna could swear to anybody that later that night that the sounds from the city seemed louder than usual. He climbed up the tree he'd been using as a bed, and peered out over the treetops. There was a great amount of smoke coming from the direction of the city. It also cast an ill-light on the forest-the type of color usually associated with nightly open shops and their flashy signs. He went back down and slept uneasily.

The smoke persisted under the grim light of day. Only now it was a thick pillar connecting earth and sky, billowing upward from the city as from a great steaming cauldron, with intermittent sparks of fire within it. It cast a long, ominous shadow, upon the forest, upon the world, on him.

His investigation further darkened his mood. It was as if the Librarium had declared war on the city's inhabitants. Though vastly outnumbered, they reaped a great slaughter charging into the city. Most were cut down, but not before piling the corpses high behind them. The remaining fled beyond the walls, leaving the shattered city behind them. Fires raged unchecked, wet blood dripped from store signs and cobbled streets, wails escaped anguished throats, and the stench of the newly dead and burning was everywhere.

Ragna felt greatly disturbed. It had only been some days ago when he'd walked among the people, eaten their food, observed their behavior as he prowled the streets, even receiving their hospitality sometimes, when people mistook him for a penniless vagabond who needed shelter. He recalled an old woman who'd given him a hot meal of soup, something he hadn't eaten since he was still traveling with his father. It made sleeping against a damp, moldy wall that much more tolerable.

A growing sense of outrage brewed within him, directed against the Librarium. Who were they to corral people like this? His father had said that nasty things could be done in the name of war, and that in war, none were innocent, but this was just too much. What human could ever stomach a slaughter like this?

He put the unreal scenes behind him, and resolved to complete his job. If he was lucky, his last target had gotten himself killed. But he needed to make sure.

The Librarium remnants had retreated to their base. None of the inhabitants seemed to be willing to give them the final shove. The ones at the base were effectively licking their wounds, or were probably just trying to regroup. Regardless, Ragna couldn't find his target among the group. He considered killing them all just for the heck of it, but reminded himself that his father would not approve.

He then decided to put the altogether nasty event behind him. Hell, the whole job left a shitty taste in his mouth. He didn't like the killing, even on those who probably deserved it. He crumpled the list inside his fist. A slow, brewing rage seemed to course through him. He threw the list away, angry that his thoughts had darkened again, returning him to the state after the fire. Ragna watched it float down the stream, each bump against a stray rock sending ripples everywhere. He shook his head. He'd return to Kokonoe, report a job well done, and then maybe meet up with Jubei after. His sister, after all, was only one option in his search for Saya.

He stood, brushing the dust off himself. He then pulled his hood up. It would be a long walk to Kokonoe's place, if she hadn't transferred off yet. Following the water upstream would take him past the mountains behind Ibukido, where there would be a lot of game for him to eat.

"Hi there."

Ragna jerked, and whirled around, instantly on guard. A man in a dark suit stood there. His eyes were hidden under the rim of his hat. Overall he looked like one of those rich men he sometimes saw in the hierarchical cities, well-dressed and always insisting on wearing hats, even when it was night-time. That would have been the utmost impression he'd get of the man, if all the hairs on his body hadn't instantly risen to full alert.

The man tipped his hat in greeting, whereupon Ragna could now see his face in full. The man was beaming good-naturedly. His smile gave off the feeling of wanting to put him in ease. But he trusted his instincts over appearances. Something was definitely up. No one this well dressed showed up right in the middle of a forest. There was also something familiar about that face…

"My pardons, but do you understand what I'm saying?"

"… What do you want?" he growled.

"Oh, it's good to hear I'm talking to an actual human being instead of some dumb degenerate. Possibly even a mutant. I couldn't tell because of the hood… Anyway, I got a question for you." The man spread his palm, then put his other hand over it, as if he were performing a magic trick. When he lifted the palm off, there sat the crumpled piece of paper he thought he'd thrown. "Would this be yours by any chance? I found it drifting down the stream."

"What of it?" said Ragna.

"Oh, that's no good," the man chided. "You mustn't pollute our waters any worse than it is now. You'd make a lot of people… upset. You wouldn't mind if I read this, don't you?"

"Wait." Without heeding his warning, the man uncrumpled the paper.

"Whoa, what kind of half-assed writing is this? I can barely make out anything here. And it looks like someone did a good job crossing things out here. But I wonder why they left this line intact. It reads… 'Lieutenant Hazama'…" The man whistled. He looked at Ragna over the top of the page. "Now that's a name that interests me mightily. Are you looking for the good lieutenant, perchance?"

Ragna didn't answer. He let the silence drag for as long as it could. He couldn't act yet, not while all his senses were going haywire.

"Oh, please forgive me if I made you uncomfortable. It's my job, after all, to be as nosy as I could possibly be. There's a lot that needs to be learned and sniffed out, especially if you're part of the Librarium's Intelligence Division."

The Librarium? His breath caught in his throat.

"'Course, job like that got kind of harder over the past month, what with all the murders all the way out in Ibukido. Man, this place sucks. At first it was where the stupid rebellion started, then the Division came along and secured a coup that captured the whole place, and now everyone's been fired or incapacitated or dead because we couldn't find a couple of assassins who've been mucking up our occupation of the city! And now look what happened. Place gets FUBAR'd virtually overnight." The man shrugged theatrically. "So what's your story?"

Ragna still didn't oblige. He was even thinking of dashing over to knock the man unconscious. Perhaps even lug him around to bring to Kokonoe.

"Oh, come on, don't clam up on me now! Don't just stand there gawking. Make like a cat and meow or something. Whoops!" At the mention of cat, Ragna couldn't help but dash forward and attack. The pounding in his brain rose to a full crescendo. The man, however, had leaped up and over him in that brief second.

"Who the fuck are you?" Ragna thundered.

"Uh-oh, you're sounding too much like a degenerate now. Remember what I said about them? And mutants? And cats? Sorry, did I not mention cats?"

This definitely smelled like trouble was definitely trouble. The man adjusted his hat, and Ragna saw his smile had changed. The man's smile had become less good-natured, now widened, mocking, cocksure.

"That was near brutal speed there," the man drawled. "Almost didn't see it coming. If it had come from a Librarium trained soldier, I'd probably be cat food by now. Sucks that you're just some wandering tom right? All the anger, all the mange, all the rabies, with no redeeming quality whatsoever."

Suddenly everything seemed to click into place. He could now place the man's face against the one from the portfolio he'd observed. They were one and the same. This was Lieutenant Hazama. Now his course was clear.

"Aahhh..." The man began nodding to himself. "From the looks of it, you've put two and two together. What a neat little trick, little cat. So tell me: what are you going to do about it?"

Ragna body slackened. The man kept mouthing off, as if it were a good deterrent. He breathed in once, and then his body appeared to flicker.

"Hmm? What's—OW! Holy SHIT!" The very next moment he plunged his claws straight into the man's vitals. He then kicked him away, right as his tensing after-image flickered out of existence. He loomed over the man, his claws once more dripping red.

The man's hat, having been knocked away, drifted down the stream. Losing the hat seemed to have unmasked the man, as his face had twisted into spiteful, murderous rage when Ragna walked and kicked his body over.

"You son of a slutty, cat-humping bitch! What the fuck did you put in me? Why the fuck aren't I healing!" The man coughed, spraying blood over his chin. It felt rather poignant, standing here while his last quarry expired. Perhaps some of the darkness had seeped into his mind after all. It wasn't like he enjoyed the feeling of having killed, but damn did nailing this guy feel good.

"Wait…!" The man put a hand over his bleeding wound. "I recognize this… of course! This is that… other bitch's…" A smile, crazed though it seemed, appeared on his face. "So, was it a good reunion, little kitty? Did you all start fucking like a bunch of desperate, filthy beasts? Must be tough being the last of your godforsaken kind… discounting those mongrel Kakas of course…"

He crouched down and grabbed the front of the man's suit, pulling him up. "Who the hell are you?"

"Of course… you're still as clueless as ever… Dumb then, dumb now. I was right to not take you with…" Ragna recognized the symptoms of death on the man. Wheezing, the man pointed a shaky finger at him. "How's that hand little kitty? Does it fit you like a glove?" The man laughed, and it seemed in that instant that the sound sent the sky crashing down upon him. He knew that laugh. He'd had nightmares of that laugh. It was…

He smashed the man's head against the ground. "You…" It was like a slavering beast was hammering at the chambers of his heart, demanding to be released, and only his own choking rage was keeping it back. "Where… is… Saya…?"

"Safe and sound. Just like that genius brother of yours. Oh, you're all useful in your own ways - she more than you two..."

He slammed the man's head against the ground. "I'll KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"You've already killed 'me', dumbass," the man, the last few amused gasps before he finally expired. Ragna watched his crazed expression, frozen in death, his green hair wildly askew. A seething restlessness came over him. He wanted to mutilate the man, cut him up, pieces to pieces, then burn them, stomping on the ashes, then scattering them to the winds, cursing his being all the while.

The whole world then seemed like he was looking at it through his third eye. He gave full rein of his emotions to the loathsome darkness he'd staunchly held back for so long. He screamed. He pounded the ground. He stabbed the ever-flowing stream with his blade. He skewered the man's body again and again, heedless that he was now bathed in blood. Nothing made sense anymore. The whole world could just go fuck themselves.

_"Oh, that's just not nice. Mutilating the dead's really brutal, even for a runt like you."_

The return of the man's voice jolted him back to consciousness. He glared wildly about, then down to the body to make sure it really was dead.

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

_"Now now, that's not the voice of the cold killer the Librarium's made you out to be,_" the voice rejoined. To Ragna's horrified astonishment, a black, vaguely human-shaped form drifted upward from the ground, its form outlined in the harshest of green. There were a pair of green dots on what should be its head, as well as a vivid red curved line which formed its mouth.

Ragna feared turning on the third eye would show him something he didn't want to see. He swung his blade. It passed straight through the apparition.

_"I'm dead, how many times do I have to repeat it moron? God, even common sense is lost on brutes like you."_ Ragna growled even louder, swinging with great abandon.

_"Wow this is awkward. A little word of advice: I've had the Cauldron in Kagutsuchi primed to charge. That big-ass conceptual's about to fire its main gun, which conveniently is aimed right at Ibukido, and-undying or not-I don't want to be right in the middle of its blast radius."_

"SHUT THE HELL UP! WHERE'S SAYA, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"

_"Boy, you're seriously getting on my nerves. So damn single-minded! Ah well, makes doing this easier."_ The ghost loomed up, coiled into itself, then turned and dove straight for Ragna. He didn't even have time to back away, nor less blink.

"_Thanks for the food..._" Ragna heard the thing's laughter follow him as he descended into cold darkness.

"_...I would caution you though, from involving yourself in whatever plans she currently has. As we've learned before, the situation within N.O.L. controlled territory is volatile. Kokonoe's sure to involve herself, and wherever she goes, so does her entire enterprise. I wouldn't advise getting mixed up in all that until after the whole misunderstanding's over."_

Her complementary tea had long grown cool. She could sense her bodyguards' exhaustion. They'd been sitting, each in different chairs, at this particular tea shop for the whole day. It was relatively isolated, perched on the edge of one of the towns acknowledged to be under the control of Sector Seven, it had a clear view of the far horizon where one could see the first signs of destruction in the distance.

All the negotiations she'd had with Ikaruga leaders regarding Ibukido's liberation and the aid to be promised to Sector Seven evaporated when the urgent alarms signaled the Librarium's first use of its rumored WMD. The attack was clearly aimed at Ibukido, which in the past month had shown signs of breaking free from its control all by itself.

There was more than one reason for her to worry-though she would never admit it to anyone. She'd hastily sent Ragna there, when she hadn't realized he would become frighteningly effective with the task she'd given him. The kid was a matchstick she'd ignited and thrown into parched grass.

Good news had come when early reports detected feeble radio activity coming from Ibukido. The city had miraculously survived: there were guesses that the attack had fizzled, or the ex-Imperator had had a secret weapon up his sleeve. On the other hand, the surrounding countryside had borne the full brunt of the attack. The six miles around Ibukido had been devastated, as if the land around it had been brutally gouged by a team of giants eager to reach the earth's core, and only stopping when they couldn't see the city above them anymore. Massive doses of seithr had then rushed into the abyss, turning the whole are into a dangerous, inaccessible death trap.

The seithr had begun seeping into the city, as Ibukido was reporting. The majority had retreated to shelters, but it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed. The Federation were now making efforts on reaching the city, as an unnatural anxiety seized Kokonoe.

She had spent the last two days in this shop. She routinely returned to the base before sunset, where she spent the rest of her time organizing Sector Seven's response to the Federation's threat. She immersed herself fully in Tager's workup. Sleepless, she'd return to the tea shop by sunrise, her tails uncharacteristically drooped.

This was the third day. Her ears twitched constantly. She hated feeling like this. She threw the hour-old candy aside, and then unwrapped a new one. She nearly bit the head clean off. The man was not a loved one to pine for, so why the hell was she sitting out here all tired and useless and doing nothing productive? It couldn't be blood ties, hell, she ignored the old cat on an annual basis. Was it guilt? Was she guilty that she'd sent her rash, inexperienced brother to his possible death? If so, then fuck guilt. She slammed a hand on the table. The teacup arced a nice parabola before crashing onto the carpet. One of the bodyguards signaled for another free cup of tea. Fuck all these damned emotions that had taken hold of her at such an inconvenient time. That was it. Today would be the last-

There. There was virtually no wind, but the scent didn't have to be carried downwind for her to sense it. Her tails had unmistakably gone upright.

Several chairs toppled over. She ordered the bodyguards stand down and sit down. The shop-owner bustled over to the entrance. He greeted the new arrival, who trudged through the jingling door noisily. The customer shoved past the smiling man, whose smile broke when he saw the former walk towards the Sector Seven chief.

"Took you long enough," she said with a huff. She eyed him dispassionately. On the inside however, she was mentally berating herself for getting this pleased about something so trivial.

With a long-suffering grunt, Ragna plopped his ragged form onto the chair opposite Kokonoe. Without ado, he slumped forward and smashed his forehead onto the table. "G'damn... that was a long-ass trip..."

"It's good to see you back," Kokonoe remarked. She made a sign to her bodyguards. "Did you get the job done?"

"Shut the hell up."

_"I know you want to meet Saya and Jin again, and believe me, I feel exactly the same way. But take it from me: these things take time. Even if it may seem like a bad situation, all the negatives sort themselves out in the end. Take Jin for example. I've always known he was taken to N.O.L., but only now did I learn he'd been adopted by some prestigious family there. He's been touted as the 'last scion' of the Mercurys, great heir to Nine of the Six Heroes. Even went so far as to praise his beastkin heritage, as if I'd already kicked the bucket! They got some nerve parading him around in front of me, but as I said, patience, patience. I could go and pick him up, but it's a whole lot of trouble to stir up a hornet's nest all by my lonesome. So as before, I'll wait for things to resolve themselves. They'll have to let him out. Eventually._

_I can prob'ly tell what you're thinking right about now. 'Jin? I don't give a shit about that guy!' Well, Ragna m'boy, whatever he did to you does not invalidate his bond. He'll always be your brother, just as he will always be my son.. At least try and hear him out from his side if ever you meet, instead of instantly going for his throat the first chance you get. Though I reckon that no matter what I do, you two'll come to blow anyways..._"

~~TBC

On our next installment:

**Cat Fights! Cat Fights everywhere!**

**The Kaka clan Resurgent! **or **Is a cat capable of sexual tension?**

**Boundary Shenanigans! Wait till she finds out what's behind his mask!**

**Do Cats and Rabbits get along?**

**And what is the Secret behind Ragna's Hand?**

**Tune in next time!**

Author's Note:

I've recently hit some snags with my project, ambitious as it currently is. I'm in a self-doubting place with it, and fortunately my uncle recommended that I practice my usage of the ever-elusive irony by writing something quick and not-so-complicated about a series I hate. Well, "hate" might be too strong a word-"dislike" might be better. It seemed like a good idea and I got to it as soon as I could. And so here is the fanfiction written by someone who's not a fan, but rest assured, wasn't written because said fan was "forced to". Hope y'all enjoy the drivel: either way, I achieved this small goal.


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